


Mistletoe

by Minikitkatgirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Crowley would not approve, Groping, Idiots in love/lust, Kissing, M/M, Misuse of plant life, Oral Sex, but David doesn't mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minikitkatgirl/pseuds/Minikitkatgirl
Summary: David makes a request when they get together over the holidays, and Michael fulfills it as only he can.A little MS/DT Christmas-themed ficlet, because tis the freaking season, and Happy New Year.
Relationships: Michael Sheen/David Tennant
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	Mistletoe

**Title:** Mistletoe  
**Author:** Me  
**Rating:** R/NC-17  
**Pairing:** Michael Sheen/David Tennant  
**Warning:** Sexual content, language, additional warnings see tags above  
**Disclaimer:** Not real, never happened, 100% made up. Please don't sue. Thanks.  
**Summary:** David makes a request when they get together over the holidays, and Michael fulfills it as only he can. A little MS/DT Christmas-themed ficlet, because tis the freaking season, and Happy New Year. **  
**  
**Clothing reference** : The outfits/David’s leather jacket in[ this pic.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/68196985b84ef8283434b6399a6d1fa7/85efd505966af96f-a0/s540x810/aae010d0013fc1ec058262f4deb9bf5a3d09952a.jpg)

\---

David’s hands were hot on Michael’s collar the moment he walked in.

He’d scarcely got the edge of a “Merry” out before being enveloped in an armful of lanky Scotsman, his scent and skin flooding Michael’s senses to where words never seemed to matter, and the “Christmas” at the end of that sentence soon lay forgotten.

Christmas.

It had been months since they’d last gotten together, weeks of affectionately filthy phone calls and late night FaceTiming peppered with promises of meeting up again at the holidays. They’d gone over their respective rendezvous wish lists and David’s demands were simple: A bottle of red wine, a roaring fire, and Michael, any way he could have him.

They necked and groped as David edged him into the room, Michael catching sight of a fire in the fireplace behind them–not quite roaring, but purring loudly, as much as the spacious hotel suite’s safety standards would allow.

There was a bed, Michael observed, one covered with luxurious blankets and dozens of lovely velvet pillows. A bed he’d very much looked forward to pinning David down on while slowly undressing him…

Yet somehow they’d ended up on the oversized chair next to the bed instead, David sitting astride Michael, hips settling into his lap. He braced his palms on either side of Michael’s face, threading into and tugging on his thick curls, pulling him closer. Michael moaned, gripping the leather of David’s jacket, feeling it warm deliciously beneath his hands as they kissed.

God, he loved kissing David. Sometimes it was urgent and messy, lips and teeth mashing together frantically in a pitch-dark broom closet or, on one notably memorable occasion, the back of a limo on the way to a premiere.

Right now it was slow and sensuous, Michael’s stomach fluttering as the light stubble on David’s chin brushed against his beard, and the way his mouth tasted faintly of peppermint and chocolate.

 _And is that…gingerbread? What on earth did he eat before I got here, and where can I get some?_ Michael wondered, his thoughts promptly interrupted by the obscenely good and weird thing David suddenly did with his tongue.

He slid Michael’s blazer off his shoulders, hands moving to unbutton Michael’s shirt, fingertips stroking over each newly bared patch of skin and the downy hair on his chest.

 _There is one thing I’ve always wanted to do_ , David had said to him when they were planning this. _It’s a bit silly, though_.

 _Oh, come on, David. What is it?_ They’d given each other a fair amount of ribbing over their various sexual proclivities, but Michael was genuinely curious, wanting to make the most of what little time they’d have together.

David had hesitated, glancing away and biting his lower lip before turning back to the screen to look Michael in the eye.

 _Want to kiss you under the mistletoe_.

A bit of prodding revealed that David had never kissed _anyone_ under the mistletoe, much to Michael’s surprise. The conversation had quickly shifted to another track after that, but Michael made a mental note, tucking that bit of information away for safekeeping.

He tilted his head to one side, mouth moving off of David’s to the line of his jaw, lips kissing up and over the symphony of freckles on his face to his ear.

“Remember what you told me,” Michael whispered to him, voice low and rough. “About the mistletoe…”

David buried his head in Michael’s shoulder, nodding. He rocked his hips, not bothering to hide the hardness in his trousers, and shivered at the feeling of Michael’s own arousal pressing into him.

He slid his hands under David’s arse, giving each cheek a firm squeeze before gently lifting him up and off. Michael stood, smirking as David looked around the room for any sign of strategically-placed perennials. He pulled his belt off, tossing it aside, and undid his trousers, pushing them down to mid-thigh.

“Oh my god…”

There was no way. He couldn’t possibly have. He _didn’t_.

David’s mouth fell open at the sight of a perfectly manicured sprig of mistletoe, adorned with a loop of red, gold-trimmed ribbon, tied securely in a bow around the base of Michael’s cock.

 _Of_ course _he bloody did_ , _the mad bastard_.

David smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as it grew into a grin spreading across his face, warm and wide like the sun.

“That…is _not_ what I had in mind!”

“Oh, but you _love_ it. A twig’s a twig, yeah?”

Michael wiggled his hips, the mistletoe following suit and shaking off several of the white berries, which looked like something altogether unseemly as they landed on the carpet.

“Michael!” David’s voice went an octave higher than usual, a yelp followed by an incredulous laugh.

“If you ever do that again, I will fuck right off out of this very expensive hotel suite and never return.”

The threat was an empty one, his lips already on Michael’s, tongue sliding into the welcoming heat of his mouth. David pressed his body against Michael’s bare torso, moaning softly as they melted into each other and he lowered Michael back into the chair.

It was ridiculous, that he’d done this for him. It was insane, it was wonderful, it was so perfectly Michael, and he somehow adored him even more for it.

David dropped to his knees, fingers eagerly pressing into the thick softness of Michael’s sides and the tops of his thighs. He loved looking at Michael from this angle, curls wild and cheeks rosy, cock hard and balls heavy as they hung between his legs.

 _A perverse incarnation of the Ghost of Christmas Present_ , David thought, remembering the chains he’d brought for them to role play much less clothed versions of Jacob Marley and Scrooge later on.

But for now, there was a kiss to be had.

Michael’s hips shifted on the chair. He threaded a hand into David’s hair, pulling firmly, head tipping back with a blissful smile as David took him down his throat.

 _God bless us, every one_ …

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. With thanks and apologies to Charles Dickens.
> 
> 2\. Per Wikipedia: "Pre-Christian cultures regarded the white berries as symbols of male fertility, with the seeds resembling semen. The Celts, particularly, saw mistletoe as the semen of Taranis, while the Ancient Greeks referred to mistletoe as 'oak sperm.'" So, there you go...


End file.
